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The Tall Haired Man
This is a blog I found a while ago on the internet; I thought it would fit nicely here. ---- Hello, my name is Carl Williams, I've been in this mental “hospital” for about two weeks now, I wanted to get this out before I die. I figured that this blog would be the right thing to do, I don't need you to believe this but the only reason this was made was to warn people just in case this happens to them. We are in danger, well we've been in danger. I don't no much about the danger but I have experienced it. In this blog I will tell you about my experience. It was May, I had been searching for something that my girlfriend, Eleanor, would like for her birthday. I didn't want to get her like a ring or necklace, but something different. I wanted something that looked old, like it had meaning or something, so when I saw that the old Indian dude down the street was having a yard sale I knew that something just like that would be there. It turns out I was right, there was a necklace on the table to the right of his yard. The necklace was red and shaped like a downward triangle, there was a face on the necklace that looked like a man smiling with his eyes closed, and there were stitches going down and across the face. I assumed the necklace was supposed to be shaped like some ceremonial mask or some god. I asked the old man what it was and he told me it was a sleeping aid, like a worry doll, wear it while you sleep and you'll have peaceful dreams. I thought this would be an interesting gift for Eleanor, I bought it and walked home. After playing many hours on my X-Box I decided to go to bed. I brushed my teeth, got in my underwear and put on the necklace. Instantly I fell asleep, like magic, and I dreamed about myself. I was floating through the air, flying, then I got cold, and a tall, hairy man. His head looked like the face on my necklace, along with a fuzzy hair due. His stomach had a mouth that looked like the worm's mouth from Dune. Sprouting from his elbows were tow pairs of arms, four arms in all. I fell into his them, and he warmed me. Then we both sat down on a red sofa, he grabbed a remote and turned on the TV that was in front of us. The TV showed him, walking down the streets, he looked happy. Then a woman walked by him, she screamed in terror, the man pointed at the woman and blood started gushing from all of the holes in her face. He did it to all the people that he saw; I tried to cover my eyes but the man wouldn't let me. He held me down, looked into my eyes and said in the voice of like some 1930s radio announcer, “Baby, your gonna' be a star soon, or my name isn't Johnny Phillips!” I woke up screaming on my couch, and noticed that my couch looked just like the one from my dream. I was surprised I didn't notice that while I was asleep, I guess I was just too mesmerized by the hairy guy, or “Johnny”, or what ever he wants to be called. I got up and went to my bathroom. I combed my hair and zipped up my sweatshirt. Wait, sweatshirt? That's exactly what I thought when I saw in on me. I was confused, and kinda' scared, that necklace must be something more that a “sleeping-aid” I thought. I decided to get my mind of the subject and watch some TV. By default I was on the news, but I had been on Comedy Central on the day before. The host said, “Good morning ladies and gentleman, John Phillips here today with a very unsettling story. Last night a man was sighted murdering people in the streets, the only odd thing about it was that he seemed to be able to do it without using his hands at all. All of the victim's bodies contained not DNA evidence, only the cause of death, the cause being drowning. The victims drowned in their own blood. The man described doing this paranormal act has been described as wearing a gray sweatshirt, along with having no eyes and blood dripping from the mouth.” A drawing of the murderer appeared on the screen, it looked just like me with my sweater, except with no eyes like the host said. Then I noticed, the host's name is John Phillips. I stood up and looked at the TV, not blinking. Two minutes later I heard a knock on my door. I went to open it, but then remembered to change my sweatshirt. While I was changing, a SWAT man kicked down the door on his own. He yelled, 'freeze' and I put my hands up. My sweatshirt fell from my hands down to the floor. The SWAT member ran in followed by three more SWATs. He cuffed me, told me my rights, and took me outside. The sun hurt my eyes; it was so bright, and to add on to the overwhelming situation, there were seven more members of the team waiting outside. I was later taken to court and told the judge of my story with the necklace. I was polygraphed and dubbed insane and now I speak to you here, on my lunch break in this blog. I've been told by the news that the necklace is now safe in a museum and under high security. My break time is now up, but before I sign out, I must tell you, do not touch the necklace and ignore the tall, hairy man. Two weeks later it was said that a local inmate at a mental hospital was found murdered in his cell. His eyes were missing and his lungs had been filled with blood. It is also said that a necklace was stolen from a museum in Missouri. Category:Mental Illness